


Relentless

by Cassie Morgan (BADFalcon)



Category: Bon Jovi (Band)
Genre: BDSM, Fetish, M/M, Tickling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-04-09
Updated: 2004-04-09
Packaged: 2020-08-20 20:56:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20234245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BADFalcon/pseuds/Cassie%20Morgan
Summary: Richie's having fun with a feather and there's not much Jon can do about it...





	Relentless

His wrists tied behind his back with a thin shoelace, Jon lay on the soft rug covering Richie’s living room floor. He was breathing loudly through his nose, duct tape covering his mouth in a crude gag. He jerked at the first touch of Richie’s fingers on his ankles, the guitarist pulling off his sneakers and trainers, discarding them without a second thought. 

Richie grinned, watching the muscles in Jon’s arms flex as he struggled against his bonds, quiet moans filtering from behind the makeshift gag. Slowly, he dragged his finger from the heel to the ball of first one of his feet, then the other, caressing the skin and tracing the curve of the arch. Jon’s reaction was subtle, nothing more than a twitching of his toes; Richie would probably have missed it if he weren’t as focused on Jon as he was. Crouching down beside Jon, Richie reached under him and unbuttoned his jeans, pulling on them until they slid down his muscular legs, before flipping him over and ripping his t-shirt down his chest. Jon wriggled, raising his head to watch, eyes going wide at the lust clearly etched on Richie’s face. 

Dipping his head to kiss Jon's cheek, Richie pulled him to his feet, sitting him on a small velvet chair and cuffing his hands behind him; right wrist to the back left chair leg and vice versa, his arms forming an 'X' behind him. His feet were tied to the chair legs as well, more shoelaces knotted firmly around his ankles. 

Richie grinned as he watched Jon struggling on the chair and called his name softly, meeting his eyes as he lifted his head. Not breaking eye contact, Richie slowly stripped, teasing Jon as every inch of his flesh was revealed, his erection curving up against his stomach, balls heavy between his legs. Moaning softly, he stroked his cock, Jon's whimpers and his fingers making it twitch and throb. 

Forcing himself to stop, Richie grabbed a chair and sat about two feet in front of Jon, moaning appreciatively as he sank down on the fabric. It was a wooden slatted kitchen chair, covered with fluffy white material. Heaven against his fevered skin. Lust quickly consumed him, his tongue darting out to wet his lips as he eyed Jon’s exposed body, feeling the singer’s eyes boring into his head, trying to predict what he was going to do next. 

Jon’s answer came sooner than he expected when Richie reached out, lightly tickling his navel. He squirmed, trying to escape Richie’s fingers, but his restraints held him in place. Leaning forward, Richie took an edge of the tape gagging Jon and yanked it off painlessly. Inhaling deeply, Jon opened his mouth, but before he could speak, Richie’s fingers were darting across his belly, making him giggle and wriggle harder on the chair, bucking and thrashing uncontrollably, pulling on the handcuffs but completely unable to escape Richie’s tormenting fingers. Across his navel, up each side of his rib cage and across his chest Richie’s fingers travelled, all the while Jon was laughing so hard he had tears streaming down his face, his cock diamond-hard and dripping with pre-come. 

Without pausing in his tickling, Richie leaned forward to kiss Jon hard, tongue lazily exploring his mouth, before pulling back and standing up. Walking around him, Richie opened a drawer and pulled out two small, soft pink feathers. Holding one in each between his thumb and forefinger, he wrapped his around Jon from the back, lightly stroking them across his swollen nipples.

Jon gasped Richie twirled the torturous feathers against his nipples, then all across his chest. His moans quickly turned to more hysterical laughter and he started bucking on the chair, pulling frantically at his restraints in a futile frenzy to escape the increasingly intense torment of his exposed chest. 

“Fuck! Richie, please… I… oh… Fuck… Richie, please, I can’t take it! Oh God… ”

Richie paused, crouching down in front of Jon, hands on his knees. “What will you do if I stop?” 

“Anything,” Jon gasped, tears of laughter still streaming down his face. “Anything, I’ll suck you off, I’ll fuck you, anything, just stop tickling, please…” 

Frowning lightly, Richie thought about it. The prospect of Jon giving him a blowjob was one he couldn’t resist – never could, in fact. Jon was very good at giving head, after all. Nodding, he placed the feathers on the chair behind him and stood up, bracing his hands on Jon’s aching shoulders, the tip of his cock placed against his moist lips. 

Jon’s mouth was as soft as ever and Richie slid his cock in effortlessly, his breathing growing ragged at the first touch of Jon’s tongue to his burning flesh, stroking and caressing. Jon was moaning too, the sound reverberating through Richie’s cock and turning him on even more, his cock twitching with pleasure. 

His eyes sliding closed, Richie’s hands slid up to clutch the sides of Jon’s head, his breathing reduced to pants and growls as he thrust hard, flooding Jon’s mouth with come as his orgasm shot through him. Gasping for breath, Richie opened his eyes in time to watch Jon swallow every last drop, tongue stroking across his lips, caressing Richie’s still half-erect cock. 

“You are so fucking good at that,” Richie grinned, running the backs of his fingers down Jon’s cheek, kissing him on the lips, whimpering softly as he tasted himself. He walked around Jon and rested his chin on his shoulder, nuzzling his neck for a few minutes, hands running down his bound arms. “Stay still,” he whispered into Jon’s ear, uncuffing his wrists, then crouching down and untying his ankles. Jon whimpered softly but stayed seated, rubbing his the red marks on his wrists where he had struggled against the handcuffs. “Follow me,” Richie instructed Jon, leading him to the bedroom and telling him to lie down on the four-poster bed. Jon nodded and obeyed, sighing quietly as Richie tied his wrists and ankles to the head and foot of the bed. 

Richie stood back to admire the view; Jon’s body stretched out across the bed, taut and tensed, eyes closed and tongue parting his lips, lust clearly etched onto his face, cock still straining against his stomach. Richie sat down on the edge of the bed, scratching his finger along the sole of one of Jon’s feet, watching as his eyes shot open, growing wider as Richie once again showed him the two feathers. 

“Richie,” Jon whined, voice quivering nervously. “You… You said you wouldn’t…” 

“I did, didn’t I?” Richie replied thoughtfully as he stood up and walked to the foot of the bed, Jon’s bound legs either side of him. “Guess I lied…” He grinned wolfishly, grazing the feathers along his sensitive heels. 

Jon’s reaction is instantaneous, gales of laughter escaping him, trying to pull his legs away from Richie or kick him or do anything to get his feet away from those feathers. But he was tied too tightly, he wasn’t going anywhere, just had to lie there and take it. He’d given up on begging, repeating Richie’s name in a hysterical mantra, punctuated every so often with a screamed “Please, oh god, no!”

Richie laughed, running the soft quills along the tender arches Jon’s feet, up and down, back and forth, watching as Jon thrashed about on the bed, wiggling his feet, toes alternately spreading and curling. Fresh arousal sparked through Richie and he fluttered the feathers against Jon’s toes, then between them sawing back and forth. Every so often he stopped to let Jon catch his breath but quickly return to assaulting his helpless feet, torturing the unbearably tickling toes and soles. 

Eventually, Richie dropped the feathers to the bed and began scribbling with his fingers against Jon’s suffering arches. The switching between fingers and feathers continues for a good hour and by the time it was done, Richie felt like his cock was ready to explode. Jon had some twice; his chest and stomach coated with dried and drying come, the itching only adding to his torment. Standing up, Richie smiled to himself; Jon was exhausted, head slumped down on his chest, breathing shallow and fast, skin coated in a light sheen of sweat. Dipping his head, Richie kissed Jon softly on the lips, drawing a low moan from him. 

Jon’s eyes opened and he grinned sleepily at Richie, moaning as he watched him climb onto the bed and settle between his spread legs, one finger sliding easily into him. Whimpering softly in pleasure, Jon struggled to raise his hips and push down against the finger, crying out with loss when it was withdrawn.

Richie grinned, fingers moving to lightly tickle Jon’s inner thigh, muffled giggles spurring him on tickle harder. Jon groaned, starting to writhe on the bed, causing Richie to attack his thighs with even more vigour until he was screaming and laughing, begging and pleading with Richie.

“Rich… oh God, stop please! Stop… I can’t, I… Oh God…. Richie, stop…. Stop tickling and… fu… fuck me!” His voice rose to a wail at the end of the sentence, gasping for breath when Richie’s fingers finally fell away from his thighs. 

Richie moaned, reaching behind him and untying Jon’s ankles, pushing his legs up to his chest. Spitting into his hand, he roughly coated his cock then pushed into Jon in one long thrust, stopping to let him adjust, both of them moaning. Jon swore, fingers twisting as much as they could around the ropes securing him to the bed and pushed back against Richie, begging him to move. Nodding, Richie pulled out and then thrust back in again, quickly establishing a frantic rhythm, slamming his cock against Jon’s prostate with every stroke, making him howl with need. Leaning forward, Richie brushed a lock of Jon’s damp hair from his sweaty forehead, kissing him on the lips then grinning evilly, starting to lightly 

“Richie! Fuck, no!” Jon screamed, starting to giggle again as Richie’s fingers moved from his arms, down along his ribs to his stomach, tickling harder than he had all night. Screaming with laughter, Jon’s muscles clenched and unclenched around Richie’s throbbing cock as he writhed on the bed, both trying to escape Richie fingers and force his cock deeper in him, meeting his every thrust.

Growling, Richie’s fingers clutched hard on Jon’s waist, leaving bruises as he exploded with orgasm, shooting his load inside Jon’s ass, the muscles still spasming around him. Trembling with the force of his orgasm, Richie forced himself to open his eyes, desperate to watch Jon come, screaming and bucking on the bed, collapsing back down, his body limp and spent, utterly exhausted and responsive as Richie untied his hands and curled up on the bed with him, switching off the lights and pulling the covers up around them.

~El Fin~


End file.
